In the mirror image of the lie, the master of the horn chapel foretells his damnable eternal judgment
by invoking the killing of the marshes from the hellish cauldron of the abyss
coming from the wood-devouring jaws of his burial chamber the devil's blasphemy kindred
by the serpent's fangs like the rotting condemnations of a widow's womb cut off!
mythical myths of the mystery of life of the corpse's earthiness of putrid rotten turf
The subterranean waltzes of the Abyssal Dance, passing from a single note through the
points of the pentagram. Finding the command of evil in the heart's worn-out discomfort
the pull of magnetism from the embrace of blacks, through the gardens of the grifte garden
of fleshly limbs of livers damned temples that wander from the roots of the lands
up to the depravity of sloppiness!